So, last night my 7 1/2 year old ended up in bed with me. Dh was at band practice and it was actually really nice to have my oldest still want to snuggle up with me. Before I finish the story, I'm going to give you a little bit of background.
As many of you know, Super-boy was diagnosed as having Sensory Perception Disorder (SPD) a couple of years ago. We have known that there was something going on for a while, but the diagnosis just put a name on it and enabled us to better help him. For those of you who aren't familiar with SPD, the break-down is that, as the name suggests, the senses are over or under-reactive. In Super-boy's case, they are over-reactive.
Case in point: some kids fall down, scrape their knees, stand up and brush themselves off. Super-boy falls, starts screaming like a wild banshee, takes off running with no destination in sight and there is nothing I can do to comfort him. As a mother, you want to wrap your arms around your child and soothe them. This is not an option; he will not allow it. Another example: you want to make the holidays magical for your child. For Easter, dh made a trail of jelly beans leading to the Easter baskets. The excitement was just absolutely too much. And an hour later, when it was time to go to church, no amount of "transitioning preparation" was going to help. Our home went from singing and pure bliss to hysteria. We've learned to make the holidays simple. No bells and whistles.
As he's getting older and more mature, it is getting more manageable. And thank God that the doctor's words are beginning to ring true, "He probably won't grow out of it, but he'll grow in to it". Meaning, he will learn to cope. He is beginning to recognize that he is an emotional child. But here's the beauty of it: with every difficulty, I believe that these children possess a quality equally endearing. Although he is especially in tune with the negative: the chaos that ensues at times (more than I'd like) with a family of five, loud noises, scraped elbows, etc., he is also very sensitive to the positive. Although he likes to run and jump as much as any boy, if not more, he is not aggressive. He's sensitive to others' needs for personal space. He's craves the closeness of those he loves. And so, getting back to the crux of this narrative, last night, Super-boy crawled in to bed with me...
He began telling me about how he learned the story of St. Nicholas at school saying, "He even saved his father". "How did he do that?", I asked with my arms wrapped around him. "He prayed for him". As selfish as it may have been, but knowing that sometimes we are carried on the wings of others' prayers, I replied, "Well, maybe you can help save mommy by praying for me". To which he replied very seriously, eyes looking up at the ceiling, "I do pray for you, mom. Everyday." Hot tears filled my eyes and began to run down my face. For many reasons. Because I knew he was telling the truth. Because my little boy recognizes the power of prayer probably more than I do. Because he's taking the weakness of his hyper-sensitivity and turning it in to a strength. If he can figure this out at age seven, I can't wait to see what he can do when he is thirty-seven. Sometimes our greatest strength is hidden in the folds of our greatest weakness.
“To be able to feel the lightest touch really is a gift.” ~Christopher Reeves
As many of you know, Super-boy was diagnosed as having Sensory Perception Disorder (SPD) a couple of years ago. We have known that there was something going on for a while, but the diagnosis just put a name on it and enabled us to better help him. For those of you who aren't familiar with SPD, the break-down is that, as the name suggests, the senses are over or under-reactive. In Super-boy's case, they are over-reactive.
Case in point: some kids fall down, scrape their knees, stand up and brush themselves off. Super-boy falls, starts screaming like a wild banshee, takes off running with no destination in sight and there is nothing I can do to comfort him. As a mother, you want to wrap your arms around your child and soothe them. This is not an option; he will not allow it. Another example: you want to make the holidays magical for your child. For Easter, dh made a trail of jelly beans leading to the Easter baskets. The excitement was just absolutely too much. And an hour later, when it was time to go to church, no amount of "transitioning preparation" was going to help. Our home went from singing and pure bliss to hysteria. We've learned to make the holidays simple. No bells and whistles.
As he's getting older and more mature, it is getting more manageable. And thank God that the doctor's words are beginning to ring true, "He probably won't grow out of it, but he'll grow in to it". Meaning, he will learn to cope. He is beginning to recognize that he is an emotional child. But here's the beauty of it: with every difficulty, I believe that these children possess a quality equally endearing. Although he is especially in tune with the negative: the chaos that ensues at times (more than I'd like) with a family of five, loud noises, scraped elbows, etc., he is also very sensitive to the positive. Although he likes to run and jump as much as any boy, if not more, he is not aggressive. He's sensitive to others' needs for personal space. He's craves the closeness of those he loves. And so, getting back to the crux of this narrative, last night, Super-boy crawled in to bed with me...
He began telling me about how he learned the story of St. Nicholas at school saying, "He even saved his father". "How did he do that?", I asked with my arms wrapped around him. "He prayed for him". As selfish as it may have been, but knowing that sometimes we are carried on the wings of others' prayers, I replied, "Well, maybe you can help save mommy by praying for me". To which he replied very seriously, eyes looking up at the ceiling, "I do pray for you, mom. Everyday." Hot tears filled my eyes and began to run down my face. For many reasons. Because I knew he was telling the truth. Because my little boy recognizes the power of prayer probably more than I do. Because he's taking the weakness of his hyper-sensitivity and turning it in to a strength. If he can figure this out at age seven, I can't wait to see what he can do when he is thirty-seven. Sometimes our greatest strength is hidden in the folds of our greatest weakness.
“To be able to feel the lightest touch really is a gift.” ~Christopher Reeves
awww....Kendra, that is so sweet and special....brought tears to my eyes!!!!
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